“We are Beach Slang and we are here to punch you right in the heart,” they declare. Mission: set. Game on.
They spare no seconds, leaping straight into a set that’s raucous and loud and exceptionally well-dressed. A sign hoisted in the crowd has the band giggling like children, though we may never know what lay on the card that was deemed to win the gold of banners at Beach Slang shows. All over the floor, blowing kisses as they go, they feel more carefree than most others playing, and it quickly reflects back. Inhibitions thrown aside.
‘Bad Art & Weirdo Ideas’ storms through the tent, ‘Noisy Heaven’ yells “The night is alive, it’s loud and I’m drunk”, aptly capturing the surroundings, but more a Sunday afternoon in Britain. It’s loud and crackly, absorbing. You don’t want to look away for fear you miss something. Beach Slang are predictably unpredictable. Mission accomplished.